Alphabet City

I am no linguistic scholar,
but I am a linguaphile, and
I use languages I have inherited 
from my parents and their parents

and I have formally studied
Latin, Russian, Italian, French,
and I have noticed that 
languages are irregular in the
same places

the many come
leave behind
their verbs for 
to go and to have

to have come 
and to haven't
and then to have
went away

oh, 
when are they going to go...
or shall they never return?

humble tables,
oddly-strung lutes perfectly 
tune to the sound of waves

fingertips slur intonements
across nylon and rosewood
bounce between frets and land
as if on padded slippers

here is where the melody is and
there is where's harmony

there

cc: Chagall 2021

Behold, in my hand, I hold nothing 
save the stillness of the hour, the scent of inevitable tidings

My fingers pop at you rapid-fire, 
petals open and close, throbbing bewitchment

The light from fingertips writes neon in the dark
What you conjure is what you breathe

cc: Chagall 2021

She was slippery, like a wet tangerine seed
sliding across a slick tile floor, 
a trail of sweet streaks

I dim the desk-lamp low,
and sweep away the fine leather blotter,
for what is the point

Somewhere something is burning,
kindled, aflame, charred petals of burnt flowers,
atop the heady salt of sweet grass

sisi: Chagall 2021

I know what you want
I said sexily

And I proceeded
to fold her fitted sheets, one by one, 
hot - straight out of the dryer

cc: Chagall 2021

I reached out and up 
and caught a raindrop once
that had fallen, after days
of no rain, the sole drop
splattered there on my sleeve,
a tiny main island surrounded
by aqueous archipelago

Micronesia birthed
from four thousandths
a milligram of raindrop
splayed on my shirt's gray cotton

And I watched as it didn't fade-away
for nearly an hour

In the end I bid it adieu,
and smeared the drop's remnants finally with my thumb,
the tiny beads of water dissolving through the fabric
touching the skin beneath my sleeve,
colder than I'd anticipated

Enough weight and wet
to instill a shiver

cc: Chagall 2021

Isn't it fortuitous,
this time just the two of us?

cc: Chagall 2021

As I defrost my frozen yogurt culture,
I bid them Godspeed. might they find happiness
for generations, as they populate my milk offerings,
and enjoy my controlled environments, propagating
liters of fresh probiotic dairy for my flora to enjoy

God is amazing.  God is Good.
I will take care of you, as you would me

And someday I shall freeze you again

cc: Chagall 2021

If only for a moment,
if only for one day,
one night, if only

Never in a lifetime,
never in a year,
throughout all seasons

If only we'd remember,
if only we knew,
love long ago

Never comes again,
though seasons turn
sad to summer

cc: Chagall 2021

These Chicago-hardy figs
are producing nothing here
in hearty New England

Maybe Chicago
ain't what it used to be

cc: Chagall 2021